


sweet as cotton condy

by kinneyb



Series: giving back [11]
Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fae & Fairies, Fairy!Quentin, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:35:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24633202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: The gang -- Eliot, Margo, Fairy!Quentin -- go to Disneyland for Pride Month.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Series: giving back [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1405969
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	sweet as cotton condy

**Author's Note:**

> (part of the fairy!quentin series)
> 
> for one of my lovely supporters! hope this can make u smile a little <3

“Buckle up, bitches,” Margo said, hands on her hips. “We’re going to Disneyland.”

The announcement had come out of nowhere while Eliot was lounging on the couch with Quentin perched on his shoulder, watching - ironically - a Disney movie. Since Quentin had discovered them a few months ago, he had been insufferable. 

(But admittedly, Eliot found his obsession kind of cute.)

“Disneyland?” the fairy asked, wings flickering. “There’s - there’s a whole _land_?”

Eliot snorted, gently scooping him off his shoulder and cradling him in his hands. “It’s a theme park, Q,” he said. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

Margo flicked him off as she walked to the couch and sat down. Quentin wiggled out of his hands and landed in her lap. “Don’t listen to him,” she said. “It is a theme park, but it’s amazing. Rides and lots of greasy food that gives you stomachaches.” 

“Is there a reason for this impromptu vacation?”

Margo smiled, eyes sparkling. “Glad that you asked, El,” she said brightly. “I thought it’d be a good way to celebrate Pride Month.”

“Really?” he deadpanned, looking at her with amusement. “Going to Disneyland? Disney, the corporation you _consistently_ bitch about for their lack of proper representation?” 

She glared at him, and he just put his hands up in mock surrender. Quentin’s wings flapped. He was pouting, as he usually did when they started to talk about something he didn’t understand just yet. “Wait, what’s - what’s Pride Month?”

Margo turned back to him. “Oh, darling,” she purred, scooping him up in her hands and bringing him up to her face. “It’s a month for the LGBT community to celebrate.”

Quentin blinked at her. Eliot snorted again, louder. “You know how I have exclusively dated men, and will only ever date them?” Quentin looked over at him, nodding slowly. “Well, there you have it. Gay.”

“Huh,” he breathed. 

Margo jostled him gently. “I like men and women.”

Quentin looked thoughtful for a moment, fidgeting with the parts of his wings that curled around his sides, too long. “I—I think I feel the same way,” he announced finally, almost shy. 

“Oh, sweetie,” she sighed. “You’re so pure.”

Eliot tilted his head, smiling slightly. “You don’t have to label yourself,” he said gently.

“Orrr,” Margo said, setting him between them on the couch, fishing something out of her pocket. Eliot quickly realized it was her phone. She tapped the screen a few times before turning it around. A flag of bright colors. 

Quentin gasped loudly. “Wow. What is that?”

Margo smirked. “Bi flag,” she said brightly, turning her phone off. Quentin stared up at her with wide eyes, silent. She pocketed her phone again. “Hey, he’s right, Q,” she said, a little softer. “You don’t have to label yourself; I just thought—”

“The flag sure is pretty,” he interrupted, smiling slyly. 

Margo blinked once before laughing. Eliot sighed, tilting his head back on the couch. 

-

Eliot kind of thought the whole Disneyland thing was a joke. Or at the very least a dream that would stay just that: a dream. He should’ve known better. Margo marched in days later with a bag and a wicked grin.

Quentin was sitting with him, reading a book. Whenever he reached the end of a page, Eliot turned it for him.

“Do I want to know what is in the bag?” he asked dryly.

Margo hummed, tapping her chin. “Probably not.” 

He sighed, rolling his eyes. Scooting over on the bed, making room for her, she joined them and emptied the bag. There were two Mickey Mouse ears, just like the ones from

Disneyland, and lots of other supplies, like rolls of fabric and needles in a case. Quentin scurried over, excited as always by the commotion. 

“What is all this?” he asked, wings twitching with his excitement. 

Margo winked. “Good question. If we’re going to Disneyland, especially during June, Eliot is right, we need to make a statement. Fuck those old geezers and their homophobia.” 

Eliot huffed out a laugh; he loved her, even when she was in the depths of her insanity. He lazily raised a fist. “Go, Bambi.”

She smiled, waggling her eyebrows. “We’re making our own ears, and we’re wearing them with pride.” She nodded. “Pun intended, of course.”

“But—but I want one!” Quentin exclaimed, wings flapping excitedly. “And these are huge,” he continued with a frown, poking one of of the headbands with a pout. 

Margo smiled slyly. “I know, little Q,” she said. “Why do you think I have all these supplies?”

“Really?” he asked, eyes wide and sparkly. 

Eliot smiled fondly, watching his two favorite people in the world being absolute dorks. A common occurrence, really, no matter how much Margo denied it. 

“Mhm,” she replied as she gathered supplies. “Just need to know: what colors do you want?”

Quentin sat down, crossing his legs. “Um.”

“Maybe just rainbows?” Eliot prompted gently. They both turned to look at him. “I mean, you can think about it more later. If you want.” He paused. Neither of them said anything. “But for now, that just includes you without needing a specific label or anything.”

Margo smirked after a few beats. “And you say _I’m_ the—”

She was interrupted by Quentin jumping to his feet—well, beyond his feet; he hovered a few inches off the bed, wings flapping, before landing again. “I want the flag you showed me the other day,” he said brightly. 

Margo smiled, uncharacteristically soft. “Of course.”

Afterwards, Eliot and Quentin helped her make the ears. She started with her own, sewing together strips of fabric to make the bi flag before sewing them into the ears. The hardest part was making Quentin’s ears from scratch, but eventually they had the base for the ears and Margo hummed as she finished them. 

She made them take a picture together after, her head on Eliot’s shoulder. Quentin was buried in Eliot’s hair, grinning widely. 

“Are we done here?” Eliot teased once she had lowered her phone. 

Margo pursed her lips, painted a dark red. “For now,” she conceded. 

-

During lunch, the very next day, she burst into their apartment with shopping bags. Quentin nearly fell in his bowl of soup from shock. Eliot grabbed him at the last second, placing him on his thigh. 

“We are officially going to Disneyland,” she announced. “Clear your calendars, boys.”

Eliot could feel Quentin’s excitement, pouring off him in waves, wings twitching. “We are?”

“We are,” she confirmed, plopping on the couch. “ _Andddd_ ,” she reached into one of the shopping bags, “I also bought up shirts for the occasion.”

Eliot narrowed his eyes; he never trusted that look on her face. For good reason; she pulled out two t-shirts, blindingly red. Quentin watched, enthralled with the presentation. Margo unfolded one of the shirts, holding it to her body.  
It was a red t-shirt, yes, but on the front was a design, an outline of two boys, almost kissing, with _Love, Simon_ underneath it.

“What is that?” Eliot asked dryly. “And do not say I have to wear one.”

Margo glared at him. “It is one of the only decent things Disney has actually done for queer rep, so.” She grabbed the other t-shirt and tossed it at him. “ _Yes_ , you do.”

Eliot made a face. “But… it’s so _neon_.”

“Take one for the team,” she said flippantly. She looked down at Quentin. “I couldn’t find one for you,” she admitted. Quentin frowned, shoulders and wings slumping. “But,” she continued, digging back into the bag. “I did find this.”

Eliot nearly laughed at the package she pulled from the bag. “ _No_.”

It was an outfit, intended for a doll that was suspiciously the exact same size as Quentin. He wondered briefly if she had put a spell on it. The shirt was rainbow, striped and bright. “Shut up,” she said brightly without looking, reading his mind. “All we have to do is cut you some slots for your wings and - bingo - we’re in business.”

Eliot’s eyes flickered to the fairy. He was grinning, wide and blinding. He supposed this was all worth it.

-

A few days later, they stood in front of the gates to Disneyland. Quentin flew back and forth between the Magicians, wings flapping excitedly. “When?” he asked, not for the first time. They’d arrived a few minutes too early per Margo’s nagging.

They were surrounded by others, but they had already put a spell on Quentin to make him visible only to Magicians; a spell they had only recently retrieved from Kady. They could only hope there weren’t too many Magicians in the crowds. 

“Soon,” Eliot said, also not for the first time. 

Quentin stopped on his shoulder, pouting. “I can smell food,” he said after a few beats. “Hey, hey,” he yanked on Eliot’s hair. Eliot rolled his eyes. If it was anyone else, he might’ve been annoyed. But it wasn’t. It was Quentin, and he could only be vaguely amused at worst. “What kind of food do they have? They do have food, right? Wait,” he continued before Eliot could answer, flying over to Margo’s shoulder. “How do they keep you safe? You said the rides go high in the sky. I mean, _I_ can fly, but—”

He was interrupted by a creaking, the gates opening. Eliot watched as Quentin gasped, eyes widening. He smiled, looking away.

Yeah, okay, maybe Margo had been onto something.

-

They entered the park, laughing at Quentin’s shocked expression. “It’s so _big_ ,” he breathed, wings flapping. “There’s - there’s so much,” he continued, flying off Margo’s shoulder and entering the sky, high enough to see the park for miles.

Eliot waited patiently until he came back down, landing on his shoulder. He noticed quickly the new expression on his face.

“What?” he asked with a hint of amusement. He was pouting. 

Quentin turned to him. “Why are there so many lines?”

He laughed loudly. Margo joined him. Quentin huffed, stomping his foot on Eliot’s shoulder. Barely felt like a pinch. “Did you think we would just show up and be the only people here?” she asked, wiping her eyes. “Funny.”

“Don’t be mean,” Eliot chided softly. “He’s new to all this.”

Margo pursed her lips, obviously debating saying something, before deciding better. She grabbed Quentin from off his shoulder. “Don’t pout,” she said gruffly. “Yes, standing in line is… annoying.” Eliot arched an eyebrow; she had a history of going off on people in lines at Disneyland. She glared at him, and he pretended to zip his mouth shut. She turned back to the fairy. “But there are ways to make it more fun.”

He squinted at her. “Really?”

“Well, yeah,” she said, brushing hair off her shoulder. “Get up here and I’ll show you.”

Quentin perched on her shoulder. Like a parrot, Eliot thought with silent amusement.

“The first choice is yours,” she said. Eliot rolled his eyes at her, and she visibly resisted the urge to flip him off. He knew it was only because there were children around and even she had some humanity. Sometimes. “What? It’s only right, with him being the newbie and all.”

Quentin’s wings perked up, sparkling under the sun. “I want - uh, what was it?” He paused for a moment, recalling their earlier conversation. “A roller coaster! The highest one.”

Eliot groaned. “Of course you do.”

Minutes later, they stood in line. Quentin was obviously bored, and so Margo took it upon herself to entertain him with silly games. 

“IIIIIII spy someone moody and totally bringing the mood down,” she remarked, arms crossed over her chest. Quentin was still perched on her shoulder. He pointed at Eliot without missing a beat.

Eliot glared with no real heat. “You know I like my feet firmly planted on the ground.”

“But your shirt has the pocket,” she pointed out with a wicked grin. They had enchanted a pocket for Quentin to sit in, located on the front of Eliot’s lovely t-shirt. Once he was in the pocket, Eliot said the spell and he was secure. The spell uttered backwards released the spell. Another gift from Kady. 

“You did that on purpose, you evil - ”

The line moved, and so did they. 

Margo put a hand to her ear. “Sorry, what was that? I didn’t quite catch it over the sound of your cowardice.”

Quentin laughed, wings flapping. To anyone else, it might’ve sound like real arguing, but they all knew better. It was just how they played, like cats. With claws. 

The line moved again and Quentin flew off Margo’s shoulder, landing in Eliot’s pocket, his makeshift seat for the ride. Eliot peeked forward before glancing down at him. “We’re not even close yet,” he teased lightly.

Quentin snuggled into the pocket. His cheeks were flushed with excitement, wings twitching. 

“Don’t tease him,” Margo chided with a smirk. “Isn’t that what you said?”

Quentin tilted his head back, staring up at him with wide, sparkly eyes. “Do the spell.”

“I - ” Eliot sighed. “Okay.” 

He muttered the spell under his breath, and Quentin wiggled to test it. “Good?” Margo asked with a hint of worry that just made her sound a little angry, eyebrows arched.

Quentin nodded curtly. “Good.”

“I can feel you vibrating,” Eliot remarked a couple minutes later as the line advanced and they neared the front. He smiled down at him. Quentin flushed darker and ducked his head, hair falling over his face like a curtain.

Maybe they should cut that. (They won’t.)

“Sorry,” he chirped. 

Eliot hummed. “Don’t apologize. I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

Actually, he found the fairy’s excitement kind of contagious. He was still scared - seriously _fuck_ heights - but he could kind of understand the appeal suddenly. They reached the front of the line and Margo grabbed his hand, squeezing.

“Ready?”

Eliot sighed dramatically. “If we must.”

-

Quentin flew out of Eliot’s pocket, eyes wide and sparkly, wings flapping. “Again!” he exclaimed. “Again!”

Eliot smoothed down his hair, heart still pounding. He would never understand the appeal of rides like this, but—Quentin’s excitement was kind of endearing, admittedly.

Margo laughed softly. 

“Enjoyed yourself?” she asked, eyes wrinkling. She looked the happiest she had in a while. Eliot smiled to himself. 

Quentin nodded quickly, wings flapping harder and harder. His cheeks were flushed from the ride. Eliot rolled his eyes, extending a hand. Quentin dropped in his hand, forcing his wings down. He was visibly suppressing his excitement, and failing, wings still twitching. “How about we move to the next ride?” he suggested gently.

He nodded again. “Please.”

Margo pulled their ears out of her bag. Eliot arched an eyebrow. She glared at him. A silent standoff. Seconds later, the band was back on his head, pinching behind his ears.

“Off we go,” she announced cheerily.

The next ride was significantly less terrifying: a Ferris wheel. 

Eliot still wasn’t a fan of being so far off the ground, feet dangling, but it was far less terrifying. Quentin didn’t even need to stay in his pocket, sitting comfortably in his lap. Margo leaned her head on his shoulder, sighing softly. Eliot smiled, unable to help himself. He adored his makeshift little family. 

“What did you think?” he asked after they had gotten off the Ferris wheel. 

Quentin hummed, wings twitching. “Nice,” he said. But then, almost shyly—“A little boring.”

Eliot blinked once. Margo barked out a laugh. 

-

They took a break after that to get some food. Margo led the way, like always, head held high. She was undeterred by the staring, bulldozing through the crowds. Eliot followed with a fond smirk. Quentin was perched on his shoulder, still invisible to the rest of the world.

She led them first to a stall selling proper food. “Real food first,” she said as she skimmed the menu. She didn’t even ask them what they wanted—something Eliot was used to; he trusted her taste, anyway. She ordered three sourdough bread bowls.

After their food was finished, they found a table and sat down with their trays. 

Quentin picked at the bread, ripping off small pieces. His first bite was followed by a happy mewl, wings fluttering. “Delicious.”

Margo smiled, looking pleased with herself. “Obviously; I ordered it.”

They ate lunch together, chattering away. It was only after Quentin hadn’t said anything for a good few minutes—unusual for the little fairy—that Eliot turned to look at him. But he was nowhere to be seen.

His heart skipped a painful beat. “Q?”

Margo placed a hand on his arm. “Shh,” she said, pointing inside his bread bowl. 

Eliot looked at her like she was crazy before leaning forward and peering inside the bread bowl; Quentin was fast asleep, curled up in what remained of the bread, snoring softly. It wasn’t surprising, given the fairy always took naps in the weirdest places. For a magical being, he didn’t have very much energy. Eliot rolled his eyes, leaning back. 

“So weird,” he muttered fondly.

Margo leaned her head on his shoulder, sighing happily. "But he's _our_ little weirdo," she reminded him.

-

After his short nap, Margo dragged them to a stall selling cotton candy. “Dessert,” she said with twinkling eyes. She turned to the man working the stall and ordered one stick of cotton candy, already digging the money out of her bag. Quentin looked at Eliot with wide eyes.

“Cotton candy?”

Eliot smiled slightly. “You’ll love it.”

He knew that to be true; Quentin adored sweet things. 

When the man handed the cotton candy to Margo, Quentin gasped loudly. It was the common stuff, pink and blue and sparkling. “Wow.”

They returned to their spot from before, still vacant. Eliot ended up, at some point, being given the cotton candy. He wasn’t a big fan of the stuff, but he was happy to hold it as Margo reached over to pull pieces off and pop them in her mouth.

Quentin flew up and pulled an experimental piece off from the rest. He looked at Eliot briefly, like he needed encouragement. He nodded once, and Quentin shoved it in his mouth far less gracefully.

His joy was instantaneous, eyes widening and wings flapping.

“This is—the best stuff I’ve ever tasted!”

Eliot pressed a hand to his chest, faking offense. “Better than my scones?”

Quentin smiled apologetically before pulling another piece off and shoving it in his mouth with a happy sigh. He continued to eat enthusiastically while Margo and Eliot conversed with each other, debating what to do next. 

“We could do the tunnel,” she suggested after a moment.

Eliot hummed thoughtfully. “I think Q would be too scared,” he said, a bit hushed as he knew the fairy didn’t like being underestimated or babied. The thing was, he didn’t underestimate the fairy—ever. He just wanted him to enjoy himself, and he knew he wasn't a fan of the dark. They had a nightlight, even, back at the apartment for him. 

Margo nodded. “Fair point.” She looked away and made a face. Eliot followed her line of sight; not far from them was a woman waiting in the line for cotton candy, clad in thigh-high boots and a dangerously short dress. “Please,” she said, gracefully flicking hair out of her face. “Even _I_ wouldn’t be so brazen.”

He laughed, nudging her. “Wouldn’t you, though?”

She playfully smacked his arm, eyes twinkling. “There is a time and place for everything, El."

Eliot leaned over, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Well, Q,” he started to ask. “What do you think?”

No answer. They exchanged a look before both turning to the cotton candy, still held in Eliot’s hand. Quentin, who had been happily eating the stuff for the last few minutes was nowhere to be seen. Just like earlier. Eliot tried not to freak.

“Q?” 

No reply. Margo glanced around. “Quentin?” she called. Eliot see the growing panic in her eyes, and he wasn’t in a much better state. If they lost him, what would they do? The place was huge. 

Suddenly, “I’m here.”

Eliot blinked, eyes flickering to the cotton candy. Quentin stuck his head out of the cotton candy, bits of the stuff sticking to his cheeks. He smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he apologized, wiping some of it off his cheek. “I kind of got distracted. It’s just— _so good_.”

Eliot wanted to be angry, but all he felt was relief. Margo pointed a finger at him, angry enough for the both of them. “Don’t scare us like that.”

Quentin tried to jump out of the cotton candy, obviously intending to fly but his wings were too sticky with sugar. Eliot caught him with a bit of magic before he face planted, gently lowering him to the table. Quentin ducked his head, hair falling over his face like a curtain.

“Sorry,” he said genuinely.

Eliot pulled a piece of cotton candy off what was left, offering it to him. Quentin took it, staring at him. He smiled a little. “Don’t apologize,” he said softly. “We just worry for you, okay? Stay within sight if you can, or at least tell us if—well, if you’re going to disappear inside a mound of cotton candy.” Not a sentence he ever thought he’d be saying, but he also never thought he'd meet a fairy and befriend him.

Quentin nodded quickly.

-

Eliot had almost forgotten about the fireworks. Margo, of course, hadn’t. She looped their arms together after the sun had started to set, searching for a good spot. He followed obediently. He had another stick of cotton candy, the third for the day, in his other hand that Quentin was loudly munching on. Margo glared at a few people, who quickly scurried out of her way, until she found a spot she was happy with and stopped.

Quentin finally seemed to notice they had stopped, peeking his head up and licking his lips. His wings vibrated as a result of way too much sugar.

Maybe he should’ve stopped him from the third helping of cotton candy, but he had been too cute. Eliot was only human. Not to mention, there was no harm in splurging every once in a while. 

Even Margo had bought a funnel cake, which Quentin helped her finish. Eliot had taken a few bites of his own.

“What’s going on?” he asked as glanced around at all the people, stopped and waiting, staring at the sky.

Eliot smiled slightly, squeezing Margo’s hand. She squeezed back. “Wait and see.”

Quentin pouted, as impatient as ever. But he didn’t ask again; just turned to face the sky. It took a few minutes—they had arrived early, better for finding a good spot—but finally the first set of fireworks entered the sky, exploding. Dozens of colors painted across the dark sky, and there were cheers from all around them.

He had almost forgotten how beautiful the fireworks were. How much he could enjoy them. His eyes flickered to Margo, grinning wildly, then to Quentin, eyes wide and sparkling. _Especially_ , he thought, _with the right company._

Quentin turned to him. “El,” he breathed, thick with emotion and awe.

Eliot smiled, nodding his understanding. Quentin grinned before flying up and landing in his mess of dark curls, watching the fireworks. 

Eventually Margo tugged on his hand, eyes a little droopy. Eliot leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Tired?” he asked, though he knew the answer. She just nodded. He led them away from the crowds, still feeling the weight of Quentin—light, but present—in his hair. “Hey, Q,” he said once they were far enough away. 

But no answer. Eliot rolled his eyes. Not again.

Margo stopped him, a hand on his chest, before he could try again. She was smirking. “Shh,” she said before her fingers curled in a familiar sight. The air rippled and suddenly he was staring at himself.

He looked like shit was his first thought, tired after a long day. But the second was—“Oh, Q.”

Quentin was curled up in his hair, eyelashes fluttering with each slow breath. Margo lowered her hands, breaking the spell. “I think he enjoyed himself,” she said, eyes crinkling.

"You think?" he asked quietly as they walked toward the entrance. 

Margo reached for his hand, squeezing. "What about you?" she asked, just as quiet. She stared at him expectantly. 

Eliot smiled, squeezing back. "What about _you?"_ he countered.

She looked ahead, smiling. It was the softest smile he had seen on her in a while. "It was fun."

"Yeah," he agreed, kissing the top of her head, careful not to jostle Quentin too much. 


End file.
